Trying New Things
by teamfreewill82
Summary: "You're my first so many things, Alec Lightwood." Malec is at the end of this tunnel. *heart* [ONESHOT] [EDITED!]


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Mortal Instruments**_** (damn it) or **_**The Breakfast Club**_** (ditto). Also, that sweatshirt is based off of me looking up **_**Star Wars**_** puns lol All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Cuz Malec. And, of course, reviews are ALWAYS welcome. *smiley **

Really, it had been a rather strange day. Now, of course, every day was a little past normal when the Shadowhunting business of killing demons and the like was brought into play, but Alec had done nothing that Saturday except hang around the Institute, attempting to read a novel. It was difficult, as he was even after all this time nervous to have a date with Magnus.

He had said to Alec, his cool tone just barely letting through the nerves he was clearly feeling, "wear something nice, but whatever you want is fine." What did that even _mean_? Alec simply did not have the energy to decipher his boyfriend's–saying it made him feel nauseous, in the best way–strange behavior and way with words, and so he had tried to let it go.

But there he sat, his one hand holding the book while the other propped up his chin to afford him a view out the large window of the library. He'd tried to focus, he really had, but his eyes continued to glaze over the words without effect. Breathing out, Alec closed the book and, after keeping it gripped in his fingers for a moment longer, stood and set it down onto the table beside his chair. Lounging in distraction would get him nowhere.

'Something nice, but whatever'? If Magnus expected Alec to show up comfortably clothed, Alec would wear sweatpants. If he just didn't want to stress Alec out by telling him to wear something completely fancy so instead said 'whatever'… then Alec would have to do exactly the opposite and dress finely. The over-anatomized contemplation made Alec feel like a woman and he very nearly slapped his forehead in frustration.

"Something eating you?" inquired Isabelle upon her entrance to his room. She leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed over Simon's grey and black printed 'Tall, Darth, and Handsome' sweatshirt. The smallest of smiles was playing at her lips as Alec shoved his scarred hands into his already messy black hair.

"How'd you notice?" he muttered.

"Hey, chill out, drama king. Got your date with Magnus and–lemme guess–you're stuck on what to wear because it's Magnus, and it's you, and it has to be perfect?"

"And along with the fact that he was entirely unhelpful, then yes. I am very much screwed." Alec dropped onto his bed and his sister grinned, entering to put her arm around his shoulders.

"Chin up, kid. I can help you in this department, you know. Some say I have a wicked fashion sense."

"Then what're you wearing right now?" Alec said in return.

Isabelle took her arm off of her brother and lightly shoved him, snorting. "Shut up. Who's the one in need here?"

Alec sighed. "Okay," he relented, albeit reluctantly. "What do _you_ suggest I wear?"

His sister clapped once and got to her feet. "So glad you finally asked…"

It was a horrible game of 'try this try that hell no that makes you look like a grandmother throw it away oh by the Angel BURN IT' and by the end, Alec was a few short seconds away from killing himself. But, after showering and dressing, Isabelle was all too happy to step back and admire her handiwork.

"Damn. I'm good. You know, it's a shame you aren't straight; the women of this world and Idris must be totally bummed," announced Isabelle. Alec shook his head, rolling his eyes, but turned to see himself in his sister's full length mirror. She was right.

A fine, buttoned up suit and underneath, a black shirt. His dark dress shoes gleamed, and if they had held any more luster they would have reflected Alec's bright blue eyes, of which appeared even more crystalline due to all of the dark colors he wore. He looked incredibly, devastatingly handsome. He couldn't wait for Magnus to see him. He threw a smile Isabelle's way. "Thanks, Iz."

She shrugged, her smile wide, and hugged him from behind with her chin resting on his shoulder. "Good luck, bro." She kissed his cheek and exited the room, Alec left to analyze every detail of himself in the few minutes he had before it was time to leave for Magnus' place. He released a breath, hoping he wouldn't forget to take air in throughout the remainder of the night.

Alec adjusted his suit jacket and smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck. Nodding to himself in the mirror one last time, he grabbed his cell and slipped it into his pocket. Upon exiting his bedroom, his _parabatai_ fell into step beside him.

"So," said Jace casually, "ready for your date?"

"I would say far from it, but both you and Izzy have told me countless times not to psych myself out so much." Jace grinned. "So yes. I am ready for my date."

"Fantastic. And it isn't like it's your _first_ date. Remember that?" The memory of the story told to Jace by Alec made the latter laugh, whereas Alec hung his head.

"Why do I continue to tell you things?" Even though it wasn't the First Date all over again, every date after still felt as though it were. Alec wasn't sure whether he loved that things were always new with Magnus or if he hated it.

"That's what everyone says but they, including you, just can't seem to help it, what with my undeniably trustworthy demeanor. Go get him, tiger." He smacked Alec's back before disappearing into his own room. Alec shook his head. In that moment, his sister and Clary appeared to flank his sides.

"Well. I told you, didn't I?" Izzy said to the redhead, who nodded with a smile.

"You were right. He looks great."

"And _he_ is right here," Alec spoke. "Thanks. Did either of you need something?" He took his car keys from their loop beside the massive front doors.

"Just wishing you good luck," Clary told him with an innocent shrug.

Alec, slipping on his grey, black-buttoned jacket (the jacket his friends illogically insisted on calling 'the British coat') replied, "Shadowhunters don't wish each other good luck, remember?"

Clary shrugged again, this time with a smile. "I know. You'll have a great time." She left, sending one last look at Isabelle, who nudged Clary to go on.

"Okay, big brother," Isabelle said. "You love me?"

"As strange as you have always been, Iz, I do love you." He hugged her and she smiled as they pulled back.

"Love you. Have a killer time." As Alec opened the door, she added, with a wink tacked on at the end, "And with Magnus… that's assured."

Alec stood before the steps leading up to Magnus' apartment, clenching and unclenching his fists. He still felt stupid for not bringing anything, but Magnus had been completely adamant–Alec was to bring nothing but himself. That didn't mean he had to like it.

He jumped up the stone steps and into the building, then pressed his knuckle against the buzzer. His was the only one labeled: BANE. A moment later, the doorway at the top of the staircase was flooded with light.

"Alexander," the High Warlock of Brooklyn greeted his Shadowhunter as the latter made his way up the stairs. Magnus was dressed as extravagantly as was his usual–a black sweater with grey striped trim and a white dress shirt beneath it, his skinny jeans held at the ankles by laced boots of the color navy. On his ears, he wore two earrings and one silver and indigo dragon cuff. Though amazing, that night it appeared he had tried to tone down his obvious love for fashion while still coming out brilliantly. And it worked, of course. He looked drop-dead, for Magnus Bane would accept nothing less.

"Hi," Alec managed to say. A smile curled Magnus' lips as he moved to allow Alec entrance into his apartment. Alec slid past his boyfriend and inside, rubbing his hands nervously together as he glanced around. The place was decorated to perfection, with a couple of candles here and there and lilting music filling the background. Magnus stood behind and snapped his fingers, the candles lighting up when he had done so. Alec smiled and looked back at Magnus. Magnus returned the smile and kissed Alec's cheek breezily as he walked by. "Come, sit. You won't believe what I've done for you."

Alec laughed and followed Magnus, removing his coat and settling into the couch he had sat upon so many times before. Why, then, did it feel so different that night? "I don't doubt that," he said. "What is it? Nothing too crazy, I hope."

"Alexander, do you not know me at all?" inquired Magnus. "Now, you know I've been alive… a while."

"Uh, yes."

"Well, along the way of my many and various travels," the warlock continued, "I picked up–among others, of course–a certain skill."

"Is it the ability to make me concerned?" Alec asked him, causing Magnus to chuckle.

"No, no, it isn't strange, really. It's just something most people wouldn't believe I can do." Holding out for just a moment in order to build the suspense, Magnus said, "I can cook."

"Uh–" Alec stared at him, then blinked twice, very quickly. "What?"

"Exactly what I said. When I was younger… you know I was on my own most of the time. I had to fend for myself, and among the many other things I had to do, I had to make my own meals. Simple things, but good enough. And then, traveling to places such as Italy and Paris… one learns a few things about the kitchen. I admit, I am not terribly impressive, but I've been practicing the past couple of weeks… for tonight." Alec, touched and his shyness bubbling to the surface, glanced at his lap. "And, because I've promised myself that I would share these things with you," Magnus went on, "I wanted to do this. Each prepared dish comes with a fact about me and my life. Ready?"

Alec smiled at Magnus, taking his hand to gently squeeze it. "I've always been ready."

Once Alec was seated at Magnus' expansive dining table the warlock nodded, as if to himself. "All right. I will be serving as well, since I figured you wouldn't want me snapping my fingers all night for the food to levitate itself into the room."

"As annoying as that could be," said Alec, "I don't want you to be my waiter."

"_Our_ waiter. I wanted to do this, remember? Now, if you'll excuse me." He left for the kitchen and Alec breathed. He hadn't forgotten how yet, it seemed.

"So," Magnus said, upon reentering, "appetizer first."

He set a silver platter onto the table before Alec. On it rested several different types of foods, such as rice balls with sauce, and spiced shrimp. "This dish," Magnus began, "is called _tapas_. It's traditionally served in Spanish speaking countries–i.e. my time in Peru. I was addicted to these tiny portions. I would tell you which year but I've been there so many times… Help yourself."

Alec, somewhat timidly, took one of everything. "You made all this?" he asked.

"Indeed I did. Of course, I asked my good friend Catarina for help because she was both there in Peru with me, but she was most unhelpful..."

They ate, and while they ate they talked, really talked, and it was so calm and relacing that Alec could feel his nerves slowly slipping away from him. When he had finished his _tapas_, Magnus stood, picking up the tray in order to retrieve the next.

Alec couldn't believe he'd gotten so lucky. Only a few years ago this idea would have never crossed his mind, that he would be sitting in a warlock's dining room eating Spanish cuisine and talking about everything there was to talk of. But he'd found along the way that he wouldn't be happy anywhere else.

"Entrees," Magnus sing-songed. The next tray revealed… "Duck a l'orange."

Alec raised his eyebrows. "Where'd you eat this?"

"Well, I never actually ate this dish in particular. It is merely a symbol of my love for the Herondales, as it was the beginning of their perpetual hatred for this creature," Magnus informed Alec with a light smile, beneath which was hidden something Alec could not quite reach. "I was lucky enough to be the first told about it in London, 1857, and here is the result."

It was, oddly enough, quite good and Alec had two helpings. "This is delicious," he voiced to Magnus, who shrugged his lean shoulders as Alec brought another forkful of sauce covered duck to his mouth. "I never thought I'd ever eat duck."

"You never thought you'd be doing a lot of things," Magnus pointed out.

"I'm glad I've been trying new stuff, like this," said Alec. "It's pretty much because of you. Thanks." They kept their gazes locked for a moment, gold-green cat slits on icy blue, until Magnus delicately cleared his throat and pushed his chair away from the table in order to jump to his feet.

"Dessert?" he inquired, just keeping his voice from cracking, of which his boyfriend took no notice.

He returned with two bowls. Each contained two scoops of white vanilla bean ice cream with one slice of a brilliant red strawberry on top.

"Ice cream?" Alec observed. "Gotta say, from what you've been giving me, I half expected some fancy European cakes." He was clearly joking, but Magnus nodded and reseated himself.

"Ice cream is simple, Alexander. It's pure. It's you." Alec tilted his head at his boyfriend. "You're perfect," Magnus clarified, "despite what everyone may think. You've tried to keep yourself hidden from the world, and recently you've honored me by allowing me into yours. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that." Alec, knowing his eyes were growing wet from the memories, wished he could drop them, but he wouldn't let himself. He trained them on Magnus, completely, because Magnus would never, ever judge him. "You hope that by not screaming to be looked at it, you'll be overlooked. You may believe that no one could ever possibly put you first, or love you more than anything else…" Standing, Magnus continued, "but I'm telling you now–like I choose a single flavor of ice cream," He had to laugh in the slightest at that, along with Alec, "I don't need anything else but you, and what you bring to me just by being yourself.

"So–" He moved forward and stood before Alec, who looked up at him in question. "Because the thought of being without you again makes me utterly depressed… I am on my knees–both because it is somewhat easier to accomplish kneeling on two knees in these tight pants than one–in the hopes that you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, the most kind-hearted Shadowhunter I have met in _far_ too many years–" He held up his hand and, a set of brilliant sapphire sparks later, a black box rested in his palm, embossed with an intricate design of the exact color to match Alec's eyes, "will become my crazy agile and courageous… husband." He spoke in one breath, but this word came out reverently. Alec, clutching the arms of his chair in shock, nodded. Magnus' eyes widened, and Alec nodded again, quicker and quicker, until he was jumping up and pulling Magnus into a tight hug.

"In what universe would I not want to marry someone as amazing and brave as _you_?" Alec asked breathlessly, pressing an excited and yet–because it's Alec–sweet kiss onto his boyfriend's lips.

"So," Isabelle spoke up as the end credits of their movie rolled. _"…a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal…" _"You think he's proposed yet?"

"Maybe," said Clary. "You think Alec said yes?"

"More like _Hell_ yes."


End file.
